


Do it

by fait_hunter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Ending, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fait_hunter/pseuds/fait_hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do it.”</p>
<p>The repulsor whines as it starts to build energy-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do it

**Author's Note:**

> ( there were just a bunch of things that felt off about the ending they gave us. :/ )

 

_“Do it.”_

The repulsor whines as it starts to build energy- 

“Bucky, no!” Steve starts a headlong charge from where he’d landed across the room, but Bucky puts a hand up to stop him.

“I keep trying to tell you, Steve- I’m not worth it.  I did everything he said. I did worse. I did all of it.” His lips twist into a small, bitter shape as his voice grows hoarser. “And now- every second I’m alive, I’m putting people in danger. You know it’s true. It’ll be better this way, trust me.” Bucky squares up to the gauntlet in his hands, leaning in until his forehead is nearly touching the deadly blue light. He takes one slow, measured breath- a last breath. His voice is gentle as he nods to Tony. “Go ahead.”

Tony blinks inside his helmet, shaking off the dumbfounded stupor that kept him frozen for so long. The repulsor flickers out.

Bucky barely has time to open his mouth to object- one fist wrenches him up by the scalp while the other slams viciously into his face. The first hit crushes his nose; the second shatters his cheekbone, metal knuckles ruthlessly scraping at the mess they leave behind.

Tony lets him drop, but catches the metal wrist before he hits the ground. Steve rams into him shield-first with the force of a freight train, but the repulsor has already done its damage: Bucky’s metal arm is shredded. Tattered wires dangle from the shoulder.

The Iron Man armor hits the back wall with a clang, but Steve has already launched himself back towards Bucky, shedding gloves, shield and helmet as he scrambles for the crumpled shadow on the floor. His hands shake as he searches for a pulse.

It’s there- a heartbeat, strong and steady. Bucky’s breath is ragged but it doesn’t sound like it’ll stop anytime soon. Steve sags with relief. He brushes the hair away from Bucky’s face and lets his hand rest there, palm against his cheek.

Tony’s ditched his gloves and helmet, too- he’s sitting back against the wall, head tilted back like he thinks it’ll keep the tears from overflowing his eyes. “He killed my mom,” he says, quietly, mostly to himself.

Steve’s eyes snap up, burning with rage. It’s almost, _almost_ enough to tear him from Bucky’s side, to rip his former teammate apart for what he tried to do. Almost.

“Hydra had him for _decades_ , Tony,” he says instead. “They tortured him- cut him up and used him as a lab rat. They took his memories, they tried to burn him out of his own brain-” Steve bites off the train of thought before the anger can take hold and make him do something stupid. _Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth_ , like Sam taught him, until he’s under control. “He didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to do any of it.”

It’s not funny, but part of Tony wants to laugh, wants it all to be a joke- his whole life feels like one big, shitty joke that he’ll never understand. He scrubs at his eyes. “Nat said you had a file on him, on all the stuff they did when they were trying to make him into the Terminator. You wanna send me that? I think- I think I should read it.”

Steve just nods, curt and exhausted, and scoops Bucky into his arms. He starts walking. When he gets to his shield, he pauses, looks at Tony again. “You still going through with the accords?”

Tony rubs at his eyebrows. “Yeah, Steve. I am.”

Steve nods again, and kicks the shield so it skids to a stop at Tony’s feet. “Good luck with that.” Steve moves on.

* * *

“…and he calls it BARF?” Bucky inspects the glasses, dubious. “Gee, I feel better already.”

The Wakandan hospital is bright and airy; the bruises on Bucky’s face are starting to fade.

He fidgets uneasily. “And if I get. Dangerous, again. If I try to hurt anyone, you can-”

The king has a kind smile. “Rest assured, Mister Barnes, we are more than capable of containing you, if the need should arise. Assuming, of course, that your friends do not object to this arrangement.” He casts a wry glance at Steve.

“Of- of course.” Steve tries very hard to look like he’s been listening this whole time, instead of gazing at Bucky like he’s the first sunrise Steve ever saw in color. “And I’d like to thank you again for all your help; you’ve been incredibly generous. Uh, Your Highness.” Steve only performed for royalty a couple of times during his stint as a showgirl, and he never really got the hang of the honorifics.

The king pats his shoulder with a twinkle of amusement. “Call me T'Challa,” he says, and turns to contemplate the lush view through the hospital window. “I hoped I would have more time, before the throne fell to me. Wakanda is a strong nation, and through all of our history, no force on earth could trouble us.” He sighs. “But the times have changed, and the earth is no longer the only source of our troubles. There may come dangers that we cannot weather alone.” He turns to Steve with earnest eyes. “I hope that we can unite our efforts, in such times.”

“Of course,” Steve replies. “Anything you need, we’ll be there.”

“Excellent.” T'Challa smiles, reassured, and turns back to the room. “Your company has been refreshing, gentlemen, but I have five more hours of tax code meetings to attend today.” He nods to Bucky. “My best wishes for your recovery.”

With T'Challa gone, Steve joins Bucky at the end of the bed, bumping his good shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Bucky lets himself lean a little; he’s been sleeping a lot since the vault, and it doesn’t take a lot to wear him out. Traumatic brain injury can have that effect, the doctors say.

“Listen-” Steve licks his lips, not sure where to start. “I just wanna say, I’m sorry. For everything. If I had just-”

“Steve.” Bucky cups the side of Steve’s head, turns his face to look him in the eye. “You don’t have to apologize to me.” Bucky draws him in for a kiss- Steve hesitates at first, certain he doesn’t deserve this, he has so much to make up for before he can deserve this- but then he kisses back, long and aching from the empty years between them.

They break apart, foreheads still resting on each other- Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s waist, and he hasn’t felt so whole since before the future, before the ice, before the war. He’s that sixteen-year-old kid again, kissing his best friend for the first time, home for the first time since the world turned strange.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yak w/ me on tumblr, i'm fait-hunter there too :V


End file.
